


Adagio

by gwishin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Divorced Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Future Fic, M/M, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, Viktor is a sad lump of a man, Yuri is the most crass angel you will ever see, ever-suffering best friend Otabek, potty mouth Yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9535598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwishin/pseuds/gwishin
Summary: After the news that legendary skating couple Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki filed for divorce breaks out, Viktor finds himself asking for help from the last person he expected.





	1. Overture

When Viktor firsts sees Yuri Plisetsky he’s 23. He’s a hotshot, coming off his first Olympic gold medal, first Russian Championship gold, 2nd Grand Prix gold.

Not to say he doesn’t have any problems. Because he really does. His first problem is that he’s balding. Maybe balding is a little dramatic for a 23 year old, but he finds himself waking up each morning with what seems like half a head worth of silver hair lying on his pillow. Yakov tells him to cut his hair but that’s an even more distressing thought.

His main problem, however, is that he still lives in the Russian Skating Federation dorms in Saint Petersburg. There are some advantages to it. The practice rink is just a short walk downstairs and the rent is free as long as he keeps bringing medals home to the motherland. He was making enough now to be able to afford his own place that wasn’t filled with countless other hopeful skaters. Even Yakov had been telling him to leave for at least a year, but Viktor never really saw a reason to spend money when he didn’t need to.

Until one day when he walked into the common room and saw a tiny boy sitting in an oversized chair, sobbing silently into a cat plushie. The boy had a mop of unruly blonde hair, a practice jacket two sizes too large for his small frame, tape wrapped on his feet and ice packs resting on both knees. He was so achingly familiar that all Viktor wanted to do was run away as far as he could.

But he wasn’t a monster and this was a normal part of living in the dorms. The skating federation didn’t tend to advertise broken children as one of the features of their program, but it was inevitable. Skating, like any sport, didn’t care about age. Falling on the ice and being yelled at by coaches was an everyday occurrence no matter how young a skater was. And in Russia they liked to start their skaters off very young.

Viktor walked up to the boy slowly and kneeled down in front of him.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The crying stopped almost immediately. The kid’s body stiffened and he didn’t lift his head from where it was buried in the stuffed animal’s fur. “I’m fine”

Now that he was closer, Viktor saw the fading bruises covering the boy’s legs and the thin scratch marks that criss-crossed all over little hands: product of skating without gloves. He wondered how old this kid was, why he was living by himself in the dorms, where his parents were.

“Are you sure? You should put bandages on those cuts”

The boy shook his head again “Yakov said they would heal overnight. They’re not deep”

“Yeah he used to tell me the same thing, but it helps the sting if you wrap them up”

“Yakov was your coach too?”

Viktor grinned a little at the kid’s priorities “Still is”

The boy finally looked up and the first thing ( _the only thing, really_ ) Viktor noticed was his eyes. They were still wet, a few stubborn teardrops clinging to his lower lashes, but they were bright and filled with so much fire that Viktor could swear he was looking into a mirror. Eyes everyone always told him that he had. Too old for his face, forged from pure steel and determination. He never understood what that meant until that moment. 

_Many years from now, in another country in another time, someone would tell Yuri that he had the eyes of a soldier. But on that cold night in St Petersburg, Viktor had been the first to notice it._

Those eyes widened a fraction, mouth opening in a silent gasp as the young child finally saw exactly who it was standing in front of him. Viktor wasn’t quite the living legend that he would soon become but he was the best the country had to offer by far and many of the novice class worshiped him.

If this little boy was one of the ones that had posters and snuck in to watch Viktor’s practices, he didn’t show it. Instead he just hugged the cat plush closer to himself.

“Yakov only takes the best” the boy said after a few silent seconds. Viktor didn’t know if he was saying it to make a point or to remind himself of that fact.

“Then you must be one of the best”

The boy nodded. “One day I’m going to be _the_ best….”

He trailed off and Viktor stayed silent to let the kid finish his thoughts. The steel in those emerald eyes hardened further.

“One day I’m going to be the best and get everything I want, so it’s okay if it hurts right now”

Viktor felt a little hollow as he stood up. “Well, I look forward to seeing you become the best”

The boy nodded and looked off to the side for a small second, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. When he looked back at Viktor, the steel in his eyes was still there but his brows were furrowed. “Don't tell anyone else I was crying”

“I won’t if you promise me that you’ll get some practice gloves. You can still be a great skater with them”

The boy sat silent for a few more seconds before his brows relaxed and something that resembled the beginning of a smile came across his face. “Promise”

He held out one of his pinkies and the gesture was so childlike and pure coming from the warrior of a kid that Viktor nearly collapsed onto his knees once again. But years of training had prepared him to deal with any type of situation. So instead he leaned back down a little and wrapped his own pinky around the tiny one offered to him. “Promise”

This kid, Viktor thought as he walked out of the common area and back towards his own room, was going to be something special.

And he confirmed it the next day when he found himself—for reasons he didn’t really want to think deeply about—observing Yakov’s novice class as they skated in circles around the practice rink. Most of them were extremely distracted by the World Champion that was standing in front of them. But one particular kid kept skating without sparing Viktor a second glance.

“Yuri Plisetsky” Yakov offered as he saw Viktor’s eyes trained on the little kid “10 years old, just came to us from Moscow. The best student we’ve had since you, Vitya. Hell, maybe even better. He’s going to be something we've never seen before”

Yakov was a nicer coach than most but his compliments were rarer than his smiles. And Viktor had only seen him smile once. So this was special.

“He reminds me a lot of you.” Yakov continued “Want to be his mentor? The kid could use one and there’s a lot you can teach him”

Viktor watched Yuri take off and land a surprisingly solid series of toe loops. Part of his brain was telling him that it was logical for an older skater to take a promising young student under their wing and train them. Yuri had determination etched onto every line of his body. He would be a dedicated student.

But another part of Viktor’s brain—the part that knew how lonely it was at the top, the part that knew the pressure and stress and insecurity and hatred that being the best would bring— screamed at him to to run away, _don’t make him like you, run far far away._

That part of his brain remembered those unfiltered tears, the plush cat toy, the innocent beauty of that pinky promise.

So he just turned to Yakov and shook his head. “I’ve got too much going on right now with just trying to defend my golds. Maybe someday in the future”

Yakov shrugged and turned back to his class. Yuri finally looked over at Viktor and gave him that tiny hint of a smile as he nodded his head towards the obviously borrowed, too-big gloves on his hands.

Viktor moved out of the dorms a week later.

~~~~

When Yuri first sees Viktor again after _the big breakup_ he’s 19. He’s the current living legend in Russia, coming off his first Olympic golds, first Russian Championship gold, and 2nd gold at both the Grand Prix Finals and Worlds. It was a better track record than Viktor and normally he would be the first to point it out.

But this was a situation that the boy hadn’t ever planned to deal with. He had of course heard the news. Everyone had. **Legendary Skating Couple Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki File for Divorce** had been a headline in even the most conservative of Russian papers.

Yuri had felt bad about the news. Sent Viktor a “This really sucks. I’m sorry” text and liked Yuuri’s instgram post about needing space and privacy.

That’s all Yuri really expected himself to have to do about this whole thing. He hadn’t communicated much with Viktor and Yuuri after the couple had moved to Canada two years back to get married and start a coaching career together. They sent each other cards for birthdays and holidays, commented on various social media posts. Yuri had visited the couple’s apartment in Vancouver the year before when he was in the city for Skate Canada. But that was the grand total of their interactions with each other.

So when Yuri was woken up a little past midnight some random day in late March with a text from Viktor that read “at airport. come pick me up. dont tell anyone”, he really didn’t know what to think.

“Do you know how late it is, asshole?” Yuri texted as he pulled on a jacket. He looked down at his cat patterned pajama pants and wondered if he should change them to something more presentable before deciding there was no point. It was just Viktor.

His phone pinged. “ill buy you dinner”

“What kind of restaurant do you think is going to be open at 2 in the fucking morning?”

The reply was almost immediate “mcdonalds?”

Yuri rolled his eyes, shooting out a quick “Wow don’t go breaking the bank for me, Nikiforov” before tugging on his shoes and leaving his apartment in a hurry.

30 minutes later he was pulling up in front of Pulkovo International Airport where Viktor stood outside of arrivals, flanked by two large suitcases. His eyes were tired and rimmed red, both which Yuri tactfully ignored as he helped stack the suitcases in the trunk of his car. He looked at the overstuffed bags critically.

“How long are you planning to stay here?” Yuri asked as they both got into the car. No _‘hello’_ or _‘welcome back to Russia’_ or ‘ _it’s nice to see you again’._  Just Yuri being his normal, blunt self.

It made Viktor feel more at home than anything else could have.

“I don’t know” the older man answered as they started to drive away “a while. A few months at least”

“Where are you staying?”

Viktor tapped his fingers almost nervously against the middle console “I…well I was hoping you could drop me off at some hotel. Maybe the Corinthia”

Yuri gaped, glaring at Viktor the best he could while still keeping his eyes mostly on the road. “You came to Saint Petersburg without having any sort of plan? And now you want to stay in a hotel for a few _months_? How rich do you think you are?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight when I decided to come here” Viktor admitted.

“Yeah, no shit you big dumbass”

“I just needed to get out of there” he continued on, almost completely unaware of what Yuri had just said or anything going on around him. “I needed to go back to somewhere…that felt like home”

“So you picked Saint Petersburg?” Yuri asked, eyebrows raised. Viktor wasn’t from Saint Petersburg and Yuri was sure that the man didn’t even particularly like the city much. Back when they were training together, Viktor would skip town at any opportunity that was given to him. He remembered Yakov mentioning that Viktor’s hometown was Perm and that’s where he went all the time. Only Viktor hadn’t chosen to go back to Perm now. He had come here instead.

“Yeah, I picked Saint Petersburg” Viktor echoed.

“Well, a midnight escape to a different country sounds appropriately dramatic for you”

Viktor smiled a little “Everyone always did compliment me on my spontaneity”

“I don’t think those were compliments, old man” Yuri said as he exited the highway and turned onto winding roads that led to one of Saint Petersburg’s more upscale, residential areas.

“Where are we going?” Viktor asked. “I don’t think there’s any hotels this way”

“It’s stupid of you to waste your money staying in a hotel for so long” Yuri mumbled, looking straight at the road. A dusting of pink covered his cheeks. “I have an extra bedroom so you can stay there until you get your life together”

“You don’t need to do that, Yuri”

“Yeah obviously, but I don’t want to have to come collect your broke ass from a hotel in a couple of months” Yuri said. “Plus…it’ll be nice to have someone to keep Sasha company when i’m out at practice”

"Sasha?"

"My cat"

Viktor sighed dramatically. “From a 5 time world champion to a cat babysitter. How the mighty have fallen”

“ _I’m_ not the one who asked you to come here without any sort of plan”

“I know” Viktor said, a little softer. The _‘thanks for letting me stay with you’_ was obvious in his tone. “You have your own place?”

“Yeah, I’m not a weirdo like you who wants to still live in the dorms with a bunch of kids”

Viktor pouted as he stared out the window “You make me sound creepy when you say it like that. I did it to save money”

“Says the guy who was just about to stay in a hotel for a few months” Yuri countered back, no real heat in his words. The building where he stayed was an old Tsardom relic that had been recently renovated to include elevators and underground parking. The latter was the most useful because even though it was 2 in the morning, the area where Yuri lived housed many celebrities and the paparazzi never seemed to sleep. The last thing they needed right now was for Viktor’s face to be on all the gossip websites by morning.

They unloaded the bags and Viktor looked around, slack jawed, as Yuri lead him into his apartment. He knew that the young skater was a sensation in Russia with all the endorsements to go along with the title, but even this seemed a bit too over-the-top. He stopped in the middle of the living room which had soaring arched ceilings and giant windows overlooking Theatre Square.

“Yeah, it’s a little crazy isn’t it?” Yuri grinned as he rolled one of the suitcases into the room.

“Is the skating federation paying you in gold now?”

“Like those cheapskates would ever” Yuri scoffed. “This is Lilia’s old place. She got it because it has a nice view of the Mariinsky Theatre and she liked to judge the dancers as they went in for practice”

 _Lilia Baranovskaya_. Viktor had never personally met her but he had heard quite a few choice things about the woman from Yakov. And, of course, he had seen the many programs she had choreographed for Yuri over the years. “Where does she live now?”

“She moved back in with Yakov a year ago” Yuri muttered, pulling a face of disgust “so she left me this place to use. It’s convenient since I train with the dancers at the Theatre in the morning and the rink is only 4km away”

“She left you her apartment?” Viktor asked with raised eyebrows. Even though he didn’t know her, Lilia had always reminded him a bit of Yakov: all strict, Russian determination and harshness. So for her to leave such an obviously expensive and personal thing to Yuri spoke volumes about how she viewed the young skater. “Well, her and Yakov never had kids before and obviously can’t have kids now…”

“Don’t make me imagine nasty things, Nikiforov!”

“I guess they see you as their kid instead” Viktor finished. Yuri’s face turned a wonderful shade of crimson but he didn’t deny anything.

Viktor remembered back, 9 years ago, when Yakov had told him that Yuri was going to grow up to be something none of them had ever seen before. It seemed like that had come true.

“Your room is here” Yuri said after a few seconds, moving down the hall. He opened the first door on the right to reveal a decently sized bedroom with the same high ceilings. A plush, white fur rug covered much of the wooden floor. The bed was large and covered with a light blue and gold comforter, and an ornate fireplace flanked by two large picture windows sat stately on the wall opposite of the door.

“I know, it’s a little much but it’s the one room that I didn’t bother to change the furniture in so blame Lilia for that” Yuri explained “the bathroom is next door and that dresser over there is empty so you can put whatever you need in there. My bedroom is the one at the very end of the hall and the only reason I’m telling you this is so that you don’t go in there ever”

Viktor smiled at the boy and nodded. The two of them stood and looked at each other for a near minute.

“Well, I guess I’ll get back to bed then” Yuri said lamely, waving his arm in the general direction of the hallway. He started to turn around to leave when Viktor’s voice stopped him.

“Yuri?”

The boy turned back around. “Yeah?”

“Thank you”

Even Viktor wasn’t sure what he was thanking Yuri for. _Thank you for letting me stay here. Thank you for not asking any questions. Thank you for not prying. Thank you for pretending this is normal._ Probably a mix of it all.

“Don’t get sappy on me, old man” Yuri just mumbled, looking at the ground.

Viktor chuckled “I’ll try to restrain myself” he paused for a second. “Could…if you…well, could you not mention to anyone that I’m here? At least until I’m ready to…”

Yuri looked at the man with raised eyebrows. “I promise I won’t tell anyone you’re here if your cheap ass promises to actually buy me that dinner you said you owed me”

Viktor laughed again, thankful for the light jab.

“Promise” and then, before he could stop himself or even think about what he was doing, he stuck out his pinky finger to the other boy.

Yuri stared at it, cheeks going pink once more. “I told you not to do this kind of sappy shit” he muttered, but he walked over and linked his pinky with Viktor’s anyways.

“Goodnight, Yuri”

Yuri nodded and stepped back. “Goodnight, Viktor”

As soon as the door closed behind the boy’s form, Viktor sunk to the ground and buried his face in the rug, letting the soft white fur muffle the frustrated scream that tore out of his lungs.

_What had he just gotten himself into…._


	2. Rubato

Yuri got up earlier than his alarm the next morning, which was unusual on a good day and even more unusual on a day where he had been woken up at 2 in the morning to drive across the city. For a moment he wondered if it was all just a very strange dream—the kind he had sometimes after eating too many pirozhkis— but as he walked over to the front door to get his trainers for his morning run, he caught site of an unfamiliar pair of shoes thrown haphazardly against the wall and knew that it wasn’t a dream at all. Viktor Nikiforov was actually staying in his house.

It was weird to think about if he actually stopped to think about it. Which he didn’t. Because if he did then he’d have way too many questions: Why did Viktor choose to come back to Saint Petersburg of all cities? Why was he the only person that Viktor reached out to? What was he going to do now that Viktor was actually there?

Yuri knew that most of those questions, the last one in particular, might not have answers. And he hated asking questions that couldn’t be answered.

So instead, he just slipped on his trainers and scrambled around his place for a pen and paper so he could scribble out a quick note—‘out for a run, be back soon’—trying not to think about how strange it was to have to do this now.

Not thinking was probably going to be the theme of this life for awhile, Yuri decided as he made his way down the road to Theatre Square. On normal days he would train with the Mariinsky dancers for a few hours in the morning before heading off to practice: a deal negotiated by Lilia who seemed to still have a considerable amount of sway in the ballet world. But with Worlds not even two weeks behind him, Yuri had decided to take a short break from dancing.

There was no skater, current or former, who ever trained with a professional ballet troupe and it showed in the careful, natural grace of Yuri’s movements on ice that no one else seemed to be able to replicate. Unfortunately it also showed in his build and height. The years of skating and ballet had done a number of his joints and, most likely, stunted his growth a bit. He had only grown a few inches in the past few years and now stood at a comfortable 5’7, which he would have been more okay with had his body ever decided to fill out. Sadly for Yuri, Lilia had been right on the mark when she called him her prima ballerina. His body seemed to stubbornly hold onto its slender, lissome build. It was great for his skating but not so great for his pride as a man.

Yuri wasn’t unrealistic. He didn’t want to be some sort of macho man—as evidenced by the near waist length hair currently tied up in a tight ponytail— but he wouldn’t have minded being able to put on some muscle in order to add height and power to his jumps. An evolution of style that most skaters went through after puberty. But his body, in much the same vein and his brain and his thoughts, liked to betray him. Luckily no one seemed to be bored of his ballet style skating yet.

“No one will ever be bored of beauty, Yuri, it’s timeless” Lilia had told him one day after he complained to her.

But that wasn’t true. Because if Viktor had taught him anything years ago it was that no matter how good Yuri was, it was very possible to get bored of him.

Yuri was just running past St Nicholas Cathedral when his phone started to ring. A cold dread filled him for a moment as he prayed that it wouldn’t be Viktor. He was running to take his mind off of the weird situation going on in his apartment right now and he really didn't need any sort of reminder. 

A quick glance at his phone thankfully confirmed that the caller wasn’t Viktor. A smile spread across Yuri’s face as he saw the name that flashed on the glass screen.

“Beka!”

“Hey, Yura” the low, sleepy voice of his best friend was exactly what he needed to hear right now “Did I catch you before your run?”

“Right in the middle of it. I got up earlier than normal today”

“That’s unusual. Is it because of the news? You saw it?”

“The news?”

“So you didn’t see it? It’s trending everywhere right now. Apparently Viktor disappeared” Otabek said

Yuri almost choked “Disappeared?”

“Yeah. A couple of his skaters tweeted that he missed practice yesterday and they didn’t know where he was. And then a cab driver came out and said that he drove him to the airport so it seems like he left somewhere. Do you think he’s finally lost it? I know…”

Yuri tuned out the rest of Otabek’s words as his mind went into overdrive. _Shit_ so everyone knew that Viktor had left somewhere. Yuri wasn’t really expecting this. Sure, skaters had their fans but it wasn’t as though they were major celebrities. But…maybe he should have expected this after all. The divorce was the biggest topic in the sports world currently.

Yuri wondered if he should text Viktor and tell him to stay away from the windows or the balcony where people could see him. That was a little dramatic but he really didn’t want anyone to catch Viktor at his house. With his hair and skating style, Yuri already had a lot of rumors floating around about him—the type of rumors that weren’t good to have in a country like Russia. He didn’t want to add anything else on top of those.

“Yura? Yura!” Otabek’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Sorry, Beka. What did you say?”

There was silence on the other end of the line. “Yuri, what’s going on?”

_Oh shit, he used Yuri’s actual name. This was serious_

“N…nothing at all!” Yuri said with what he hoped was a cheerful voice ( _he knew it wasn’t_ ). “Why do you think something is wrong?”

“Because I mentioned Viktor losing it and you didn’t even take the opportunity to make some sort of jab about it” Otabek said and yeah, even Yuri had to admit that was unusual “I was kidding about that you know. I’m sure he’s fine”

“Of course the idiot is fine” Yuri growled out.

There was another second of silence “You seem pretty confident about that”

Yuri bit his bottom lip. Otabek was his best friend. They kept in constant contact and knew pretty much every minute detail about each other’s daily lives. There was no way he was going to able to keep this from him. Plus, even though he didn’t like to admit it, Otabek was the only rational voice Yuri had in his life and his advice was always the most helpful.

“Let’s say” Yuri started, stopped, started again “Hypothetically…Viktor showed up in Saint Petersburg at 2 in the morning and is now staying in my apartment. I’m not saying this happened, because it totally did not happen, but if on the off chance it did happen…how screwed do you think I am?”

There was a slight gasp on the other end of the line. It was Otabek’s equivalent of letting out a scream. “Viktor Nikiforov is staying in your apartment?”

“I cannot confirm or deny that any sort of thing is…”

“Why would he choose to stay with _you_ out of all people?” Otabek asked. Yuri couldn't help but feel slightly offended.

“Why are you making it sound like staying with me is terrible?”

“You know I’m not saying that, Yura. But even you have to admit that you and Viktor haven’t exactly been close for the past couple of years”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “We haven’t been close for a long time before that, too. You should have seen him when he came back to Saint Petersburg to train for his final year. You’d think I had the plague the way he avoided me and was all over katsudon”

“He was in love, probably not avoiding you on purpose. They barely paid attention to anyone else even during competitions” Otabek said.

“Yeah, they were pretty gross” Yuri frowned slightly and his voice came out softer. “I wonder what happened with them…”

Yuri could almost see Otabek shrugging “All marriages, even the ones that end, begin in love.”

It was such an Otabek thing to say that Yuri almost laughed. But before he got the chance to, the Kazakh skater continued on.

“Forget about them, though. What are you going to do about the fact that your recently divorced unrequited love is secretly staying in your apartment?”

Yuri choked on air for a full minute. He thought maybe it was finally his time—this is was going to be how he went—asphyxiating to death right there in front of the St Nicholas Cathedral. It was a comfortingly convenient place to die. If he was lucky, St Nicholas would even go and kill Otabek in retaliation for murdering Yuri.

“What the ever loving fuck, Beka?”

“What?”

“Viktor is not my _unrequited love_!”

Otabek let out something that sounded a bit too much like sarcastic laughter “Sure. That’s why you spent every day of the 2017 season complaining about how he was ignoring you and why you refused to go to his wedding or read any of the articles about him and Katsuki that I send you or…”

“None of that means I love him” Yuri interrupted “I was just upset that he ditched me…uh, _us_ , the Russians…in order to run off with that piggy. That’s all”

“So you don’t love him?”

“No! No way in this world do I love him”

“Then him staying at your place shouldn’t be that big of a problem” Otabek said easily “Just give him space and time to work through whatever’s bothering him. As long as no one picks up on the fact he’s staying with you, there’s no reason for you to be screwed”

“Why do you think he came here, though?” Yuri asked.

“That’s something you’ll have to find out from him, Yura. I don’t know Viktor even half as much as you do. I’m sure he has his reasons. But…none of this matters since this is all hypothetical, right?”

“Right” Yuri said, thankful for Otabek’s promise of secrecy. He was a pretty good best friend, despite nearly killing Yuri on occasion.

“Well keep me updated about your _hypothetical_ housemate” Otabek chuckled before they said their goodbyes.

Yuri flinched at the time on the phone screen. He had been talking to his friend for a good half hour. By the time he finished his run and came back to the apartment, it was well into morning and the streets by Theatre Square were already starting to get busy. He wondered briefly if Viktor would be awake.

The question was answered a minute later when he walked into his apartment and heard sounds in the kitchen. Yuri couldn’t help but let out a sigh. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to take a long, hot shower and think about what was going on in his life. But now he had go make sure his kitchen wasn’t being destroyed.

Yuri walked over to the area in time to see Viktor turning on the tea kettle. The older man looked over at the doorway as soon as Yuri appeared in it.

“Good morning” Viktor said. His voice sounded a little hoarse, as though he had been screaming. Which was odd. But Yuri didn’t comment on it. “I remember that you drink tea instead of coffee in the morning”

A slight warmth filled Yuri’s chest. Maybe Viktor wasn’t as unobservant and distant as he had thought.

“Thanks” he said. “I have a coffee maker too if you prefer that”

“Tea is fine with me. It’s more Russian, don’t you think? To drink tea in the morning. The Canadians were obsessed with coffee.”

Yuri raised his eyebrows a bit. Viktor was rambling. It was clear the older man was slightly uncomfortable about something, but Yuri figured that it made sense that Viktor would have his own problems that he needed to work out. At 19, Yuri had become more mature…

“You’re fucking weird, old man” he muttered.

…slightly.

Viktor just laughed. His eyes went soft before he turned away and looked out the picture window above the sink. “Yeah, I’ll give you that”

They stood in silence until the tea kettle rang out. Yuri went to go and turn off the stove.

“You were out for awhile” Viktor finally said as he leaned up to take two tiger print mugs out of the cupboard.

“Beka called me in the middle of my run so I got a little distracted” Yuri answered with a shrug.

Viktor just hummed in response, face impassive, as he placed the mugs down on the counter with a little too much force. Yuri winced slightly and prayed nothing had cracked. Those were his favorite mugs…

“Be careful with those! You can’t go around breaking shit like this is your house!”

“And here I thought I could treat this place like my own” Viktor sighed dramatically. “Aren’t we friends too, Yura?”

Yuri scowled. “We're not friends. You’re just an old man leeching off of me. Now get out of the way and let me make some breakfast”

Breakfast turned out to be slightly underdone toast spread with jam. But for someone who usually either skipped breakfast all together or picked up something at Tim Hortons on the way to the rink, Viktor couldn’t really complain about the quality of the food.

However his eyes did twitch subconsciously as Yuri slid the food over to him on a real Lomonosov china plate. A whole matching dinner set lay scattered around the kitchen, holding everything from half-fermented sauerkraut to bunches of bananas.

“You realize that this dishware is over three hundred years old, right?” Viktor asked as he gingerly picked it up.

Yuri shrugged “Huh, is it? Lilia left all this shit when she moved out and I haven’t gotten around to buying new dishes”

Viktor wanted to cry as he saw Yuri empty a can of cat food into one of the delicate bowls before setting it on the ground for Sasha. Instead he just continued to eat toast off of his gold-inlayed plate, staring out at the Mariinsky Theatre, feeling as though he was in some sort of alternate universe. One that echoed what his life might have looked had he never made that spontaneous trip to Japan years before.

Well, it hadn’t been spontaneous. Viktor had many reasons to make that trip. Many feelings that compelled him to make that trip: loneliness, self-hatred, boredom—the kind that only a 5 time consecutive Grand Prix champion could feel. There had also been fear. Though that he had become used to. Fear had been the overarching theme of his life ever since he was 23. But he had felt it more then. And it felt it again now.

Of course it didn’t help that the object of his fears was standing in front of him—shoving toast into his mouth inelegantly as he lightly kicked his cat away from the counter. Yuri Plistesky ( _he’s going to be just like you, Vitya. Just wait until you see his senior division debut next year. You’re going to think you’re looking into a mirror. By the way, I heard you’re going to choreograph for him?_ ) always knew just how to make Viktor feel off guard.

Yuri looked up and found Viktor staring at him with one of the most wistful and sad expressions he had ever seen.

The young skater bit back a sigh and looked away. Amid the banter and barbs, it did slip Yuri’s mind that Viktor had just gone through what he was sure was a very painful divorce. He had been around the Nikiforov-Katsuki couple enough to know that, once upon a time, they had been grossly into each other.

“I have skating practice today, a little past noon” Yuri said as he dropped his plate in the sink with a loud clang that rang through Viktor’s soul. _Those beautiful plates…_

“Already? Worlds just finished a couple of weeks ago. You didn’t want to take a break?”

“Nope. And don’t try to guilt me into taking one. Those skaters of yours that you ditched obviously weren’t on break either” Yuri said a little too casually.

Victor’s mouth fell open. “How…”

“You’re all over the news, Nikiforov” Yuri sighed. “you and your mysterious disappearance”

Viktor blanched. “All over the news? But I just left two days ago!”

“Welcome to being famous again, I guess. But since you’re a news headline now, I’m assuming that you wouldn’t want to come to the rink with me”

“No” Viktor said quickly—thinking back to the last conversation that he had with Yakov a year back. It hadn’t been pretty and there was no way he was in a hurry to see the man again. “I'm not ready for anyone to know I’m here yet”

“Then you can stay here” Yuri said “The building has a gym and a pool on the first floor if you want to check those out. Theatre Square is just a block away but there tends to be paparazzi outside because we’ve got some actors that live here, so cover up if you go out. Just…”

“Just what?” Viktor asked.

_Just don’t stay depressed, don’t be so sad, don’t look like the world has come to an end_

“Just find something to do to keep yourself distracted” Yuri said, looking away “your sad face is gross looking so I don’t want to see it”

Viktor just smiled.

~~~

Yuri wasn’t in the mood to skate today. He really didn’t have to with the competitive season months away. Most other skaters were currently training for the various Stars on Ice tours that were about to start. Yuri had been asked to join most of them—being an Olympic gold medalist made him a hot commodity—but he had refused them all. Gala skating wasn’t his style and he would rather drill into his own brain than have to spend time with all the other skaters on the circuit.

Otabek had also refused any invitations but thankfully all the uproar that was caused by the reigning gold and silver medalists refusing to take part of tours had been overshadowed by Viktor and Yuuri’s divorce.

 _The divorce_ Yuri thought as he continued to skate across the rink. It was something that shouldn’t have mattered to him. That normally wouldn’t have mattered at all to him. Viktor, for whatever reasons he had, was the one to create the distance between them and Yuri had reluctantly accepted it years back. He was in the middle of his peak now—finally in full control of his body and in mastery of his technique. It was his time to unleash his full potential and beat Viktor at all of his records, just like he had planned to since he was that crying 10 year old boy. He didn’t need for this divorce to become a distraction for him.

Yet it had. Viktor was in his house and here he was, messing up any jump that he attempted to do. It was hard to get away from Viktor, even in the rink. Well maybe especially in the rink. Viktor was still Yakov’s most decorated student ( _for the time being_ ) and there was a large blown up picture of him near the entrance of the rink, looking down at all the skaters with deceptive cheeriness. Yuri’s own sullen image was on the other side, but the young skater felt like his picture was much less distracting.

Either way, there was no use in practicing when his mind wasn’t into it.

Yuri stepped off the ice and took off his skates. He wondered if he could make it to afternoon practice at the Mariinksy. He didn’t particularly want to dance but it would make him feel like he was at least doing something productive. Plus it would be a distraction.

He packed his skates into his bag and started walking back towards the entrance of the rink just as Lilia and Yakov stepped out of the coach’s office.

“Lilia!” Yuri said, surprised “What are you doing here?” Normally Lila wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near the rink unless she was overseeing Yuri’s choreography. They shared their skating compound with the SKA Saint Petersburg hockey team and apparently the players gave Lilia a headache to look at.

“Yuratchka” Yakov said, almost happily, as he saw the skater walking over to them “I'm glad that you decided to come in today. I was worried we would have to go and track you down”

“I come in every day” Yuri pointed out.

“Yes, well that’s extra helpful today. We have some news to share”

Yuri cringed, almost expecting them to also tell him about Viktor’s disappearance. But as the silence lasted for longer than a few seconds, and as his two coaches stood and looked at each other warily, Yuri started to worry for very different reasons.

“What it is?”

Lilia looked at him and shook her head, knowing her words would disappoint the boy that she had come to see as her own child. “I’ve decided to retire”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got to see a little insight into Yuri's thoughts in this chapter. As well as a bit of progression in the plot at the very end.
> 
> Next chapter will finally be a more thorough peak into the mind of Viktor~


	3. Cadence

Viktor was slowly going insane.

He knew it would happen someday. From the moment he had entered the senior division he'd known. Some people were destined for greatness, others madness. And as Viktor stood on the podium of the Russian Championships— a 15 year old newly debuted senior with hair too pretty for a boy and face too pretty for a boy—he had already known that he was destined for both.

What he hadn’t expected was the location for his final descent into that madness. He always thought it would happen somewhere a little more dramatic. He was a dramatic person, after all, so some heartbreakingly romantic vista in Paris or bleak industrial Hong Kong nightscape would have been fitting. Sitting on a comfortably worn sofa in a beautiful restoration apartment in Saint Petersburg with a cat curled next to him didn’t exactly fit the picture.

But there he was in the middle of a mild mental breakdown punctuated only by Sasha’s soft purring.

The worst part about the whole thing was knowing that there was no one to blame but himself. He was the one who chose to come back to Saint Petersburg of all places. He was the one who stood staring at the line of hotel shuttles waiting at the airport and chose to send that rash text to Yuri at 2 in the morning instead of hopping on one.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so impulsive, he’d still be leading some semblance of a normal life right now: training his skating students; eating lunch at the rink commissary where everyone would give him sad, apologetic smiles; going home to an empty house wondering how everything had fallen apart so quickly…

No. He might be going insane here in Saint Petersburg, but it was still better than anything that was there for him in Canada.

Viktor was about to get up and feed Sasha lunch as per what the hand-written instructions tacked to the fridge demanded when the front door burst open and Yuri stormed into the apartment in a flurry of terrible tiger print sweatpants and loose hair.

“I need you”

Viktor choked, tripping over his own feet at the angry words.

“Um…” he said inelegantly.

“You need to become my choreographer” Yuri continued on, lost in his own world of anger or frustration or whatever it was that made his face so red.

“Don’t you already have one?” Viktor pointed out helpfully.

“Lilia decided to retire from my team so now I don’t have a choreographer for the upcoming season. Yakov said it was early enough to find a new one, but all of his suggestions were shit”

“Lilia is retiring?” Viktor asked. “I’m having a hard time believing anyone who cares about you enough to give you this place is retiring before you do”

“They offered her position of director of the Bolshoi, so she’s moving back to Moscow. First female director ever” Yuri said, a soft smile breaking through the anger. Even though he hated the situation, he couldn’t help but feel happy for the older woman.

“That’s impressive”

“Of course it’s impressive. Lilia is a badass. You know the first time we met, she asked me to sell my soul to her?”

Viktor winced a little. “Is…that a good thing?”

“Yeah, how fucking cool does that sound? Plus, she’s the one who basically saved my whole senior debut”

“Hey, I helped with your senior debut too” Viktor muttered, but was silenced by a glare from the younger skater: a mix of disbelief that Viktor would interrupt this obvious trip down Lilia-memory-lane and residual anger from everything that had happened during Yuri’s senior debut year.

“Lilia’s also the one that got me Sasha after Stas—my old cat—died. She gave her to me on my birthday. Tied a red ribbon around her neck and everything. And every time she went back to Moscow to check on the Bolshoi she would bring back some of grandpa’s pirozhki for me, even though she’d always lecture me about eating so many carbs”

All the anger had left Yuri and was replaced by a quiet sadness. It was obvious that for as much as Lilia had cared for Yuri, Yuri had cared for her the same. For skaters, especially Russian ones who were usually separated from their actual families at young ages, their rinkmates became their new family and the coaches their de-facto parents. Both Yakov and Lilia had been Yuri's constant companions since the beginning of his senior career. 

“You don’t want her to leave” Viktor said a little fondly.

“I don’t want her to turn down an offer like this” Yuri said with a shrug “Besides there is nothing that Lilia loves more than ballet. There’s always something that people love more than me, so I’m used to it. Everyone leaves eventually, right?”

Viktor was taken aback by the words—so dark and depressing, said in such a casual way. As though it was something that Yuri had accepted long ago. Viktor wondered if it was an attitude that his own past actions had helped to create, already knowing that it was. Of course it was. He had abandoned Yuri too, once upon a time. _Fuck_ he thought as he closed his eyes for a few seconds. He could never get it right when it came to Yuri.

“So you want me to be your choreographer?” he said after a few seconds.

Yuri shrugged again. “Like I said, all of the other choices Yakov gave me sucked. Plus…” _it would be good for you to do something to take your mind off of being sad over the divorce_ “…you’re not doing anything besides hiding out like some kind of creep in my apartment, so why not?”

“I was hoping to take some time off…”

“Yeah” Yuri said with a shake of his head. “It’s fine. I just thought with Lilia going, it would be nice to have someone familiar on the team. And you’re not terrible at choreography. But it’s okay. Maybe Lilia can find someone retired from the Mariinsky…”

The boy looked sad again and Viktor couldn’t handle that. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, the fact remained that almost every single decision in Viktor’s life from the age of 23 was made out of a desire to make sure that crying, innocent boy from the common room had the happiest life he could.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to tell you that I want you to sell me your soul” Viktor sighed.

Yuri looked up with a wide grin, all traces of past sadness gone, and Viktor wondered if he had just been played. But even if he had, he found that he didn't actually mind. 

“So you need a short program and a free skate?”

Yuri nodded. “We haven’t picked a theme yet either so you can choose whatever you want”

Viktor opened his mouth but was cut off.

“But don’t pick something about regrets or lost love, okay? Those type of creepy programs died when Georgi retired and if we resurrect them then I’ll have to deal with him texting me a hundred times a day to give me shitty love advice. He thinks he’s some sort of relationship guru now that he’s married”

Viktor frowned. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience”

Yuri pulled a face of disgust, thinking back on all those well-meaning but utterly useless texts Georgi would send at odd hours of the morning. “I wish I wasn’t. You know that he cried from the moment his wife walked down the aisle until they got on the plane to go to their honeymoon? Imagine being at a wedding reception where the groom is crying the whole time. Most awkward hours of my life”

The words had barely left Yuri’s mouth before he regretted saying them. There he was admitting to being at Georgi Popvich’s wedding when he had blatantly refused to go to Viktor’s, even after Yuuri had asked him to be one of the groomsmen. Yuri racked his brains, trying to come up with some sort of explanation that didn’t sound pathetic. But Viktor seemed to not have even noticed.

“That sounds like it would be a dehydrating experience” the older man said. “Seems like I’ve missed out on a lot this past year. I didn’t even know Georgi got married.”

Yuri had never felt more thankful for Viktor’s guilt.

“Well now you can keep up to date on all the current Russian skater news” Yuri said cheerfully “You just agreed to being my choreographer, right?”

“Yes, I did agree to be that”

Yuri gave Viktor a wide smile that the older man could only describe as evil. “Great! Now grab your coat. I promised Yakov I’d meet him with my new choreographer before the end of today”

~~~~

The last time Viktor and Yakov had spoken hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

Well, not pleasant was a bit of an understatement. Yakov had always been renowned for his yelling but no one had ever heard the decibels he could go up to until that day.

Viktor would like to blame it on something flippant like Russian temperament or typical old man grouchiness, but he knew he was at fault. He had told Yakov about his permanent retirement and relocation only a day before his and Yuuri’s flight to Canada was scheduled: leaving the coach to deal with any press and broken endorsement contracts as well as the fallout of having their main skater absent from the upcoming Olympics.

So to say that Viktor was hesitant to meet Yakov again would be correct. He had assumed that he’d have at least a few weeks to come up with something to say to the old man. A few weeks in solitude to come up with something to do with his life in general. But Yuri always had a way of making every single one of Viktor’s carefully crafted plans fall apart.

“…and maybe you can do something more modern?” Yuri babbled as the two of them entered the rink. If he noticed Viktor was being abnormally silent, he didn’t mention it. “After years of skating to Tchaikovsky it would be nice to have some Metallica, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m not choreographing a skate set to Metallica, Yuri”

“Why not? Enter Sandman is as much of a classic as Swan Lake!”

“Yuri…”

Just then the door to Yakov’s office burst open as a young skater who looked no more than 13 rushed out. A long string of curses in the coach’s famous yelling voice sounded from inside the room.

“What did you do to him now, Dimitri?” Yuri asked the kid, both eyebrows raised.

The boy turned towards the two of them with slightly teary eyes. “I just asked for Friday off practice so I could go to a concert”

“Did you tell him it was for a concert?”

“Yes?” Dimitri said.

Both Viktor and Yuri sighed at the same time. _So naive_. “Next time tell him that it’s your grandparents’ birthday or something. Yakov loves that kind of stuff” Viktor pointed out helpfully.

Dimitri looked at the man for a few seconds before his eyes widened in recognition. “Hey! You’re…”

“Yes, I am” Viktor answered, cutting the boy off.

“But you’re supposed to be missing?”

“He still technically is” Yuri said with a shrug. Dimitri looked between the two skaters with awe.

“Are you going to join Yuri’s team? Is that why you disappeared? To come here?”

“Dimitri Mikhailov! Are you still wasting time out there?” Yakov’s sharp voice rang through the rink. Dimitri immediately yelped and turned back towards the practice area. “Good luck with him” he said to Yuri and Viktor, nodding his head in the direction of the office.

“Might as well get on with it” Viktor said with a tone of voice that sounded like he was announcing the upcoming apocalypse. Yuri looked at him weirdly.

“Yakov was your coach for your whole career. You already know how to deal with him and his yelling so why are you nervous about seeing him now?” he asked.

His question was answered a few seconds later as they entered the small office. Yakov looked up to see who dared intrude on his space.

“Ah Yuratchka! Did you have any luck with the Mariin….what are _you_ doing here?”

The old man’s face turned even redder than usual as his eyes fell on Viktor. Yuri looked between his coach and the older skater with interest. The only thing he liked seeing more than a fight was Yakov yelling at someone that wasn't him. 

“Hello Yakov” Viktor said a little hesitantly. The man turned even redder.

“How can you just come in here and say _Hello_ to me like you didn’t leave me with months of paperwork and press to deal with when you decided to go run off to another country **_again_** for that Japanese boy?”

“I’m so sorry!" Viktor cried, looking as remorseful as if he had run over Yakov’s whole family. Yuri had to refrain from rolling his eyes at the dramatics. “I was in a very dark place at the time and I needed to leave the country without anyone trying to stop me”

_Dark Place?_ Yuri scoffed. Yeah right. Viktor had just been overly eager to get married like the gross in love person he had been back then.

“What are you doing back here now?” Yakov asked “You said that you were leaving for good last time”

“Viktor agreed to be my new choreographer” Yuri answered.

Yakov looked between the two men and then grunted, pointing to the chairs that were in front of his desk. Viktor and Yuri immediately went over and sat down in them. Viktor felt like was a junior skater again, waiting to get yelled at by the temperamental older man.

“It’s a good move, Yakov, and you know it” Yuri said, taking reigns of the conversation. “Viktor knows what he’s doing and it’s much better than bringing in a choreographer from somewhere else. Or making Lilia go through the effort of finding someone at the Mariinsky”

Yakov completely ignored Yuri, instead turning all of his attention to Viktor. “During our last conversation you told me that there was no way that you would ever return to Russia again under any circumstance. That your move to Canada was permanent and you'd never step foot in this country again”

“You did?” Yuri asked, mouth wide open as he looked at Viktor. That was a little too dramatic even for the older man.

“This return comes as a surprise even to me, Yakov. Believe me” Viktor said.

“Did you take care of whatever the problem was that you had last time?”

Viktor looked like he wanted to die. “Not exactly”

Yuri glowered off on the side. Both Yakov and Viktor were going on like they were speaking in riddles and it was pissing him off. “What are you two fuckers even talking about right now?”

“Language, Yuratchka” Yakov said robotically, not even bothering to give the young skater a glance as he continued to talk to Viktor. “If you agree to be Yuri’s choreographer, you will have to work for him wholeheartedly. I don’t care about whatever problems you have but Yuri is our best skater and we will only provide the best people for him. If you can’t be that, then you can leave”

“You know I can be the best, Yakov”

The coach nodded. “We will also have to formally and officially announce that you are joining Yuri’s team. You will be all over the papers once the news gets out”

“I've been getting very used to that” Viktor said, suddenly sounding extremely tired. Yuri felt a pang of guilt. Viktor had asked him not to tell anyone that he was in Saint Petersburg. It was obvious that the older man had wanted a bit of privacy away from all the prying cameras and reporters. And yet here Yuri was, not even a day later, thrusting Viktor out into the spotlight again.

“Can we wait at least a couple of weeks before we announce it?” Yuri asked. Both men turned to look at him. “Competition season isn’t anytime soon so there’s no pressure to make an announcement now. Plus it'll give all the current press around Viktor a little time to die down before he’s back in the news again”

Both Viktor and Yakov looked at him in shock.

“That is surprisingly mature of you, Yuratchka” Yakov said after a few seconds.

Yuri scowled. “Stop treating me like I’m a _child_ , you old geezer”

“And there’s the boy I know” the coach sighed before turning back to Viktor “We can hold off on the announcement for a couple of weeks but I don't think I can keep my skaters from talking for any longer than that. I’m not the only one disappointed that you left…”

“I’m aware” Viktor said as he thought once again about Georgi’s wedding that he hadn’t gotten any invitation or notice for. “A couple of weeks will be fine. It will give me time to review some of Yuri’s performances from the past year and come up with new routines”

“You haven’t been keeping up with my performances?” Yuri asked, incredibly insulted.

“I’ve been busy, Yuri…” Viktor said, sounding a little tense. Yuri didn’t notice as he continued to rant on.

“How could you not have watched me at all last year? I won the fucking gold at the Olympics  _and_ Worlds. I would have taken the gold at the Grand Prix finals too if that new Japanese kid hadn’t put a curse on me to make me fuck up my quad”

“Yuri…” Yakov tiredly said as though he had heard this argument a million times before. Which he probably had.

“I _saw him_ chanting something before I went on stage, Yakov!”

“I’ll skip the Grand Prix Finals performance when I’m doing my review” Viktor said. Yuri just glared at him.

“Watch my European Championship skates instead, then. I killed it there too. I can’t believe you didn’t even watch any of my performances! Plus, what is this you told Yakov about never coming back to Russia again? Do you really hate me…uh, _us_ …that much?”

Viktor felt the beginnings of a headache pounding. He turned to Yakov, who looked like he was enjoying the whole conversation a bit too much.

“Welcome back to the team, Vitya”

~~~

**_Vancouver, October 2018_ **

_Yuuri walked into the house with a frown on his face. He’d been in a bad mood ever since practice had started that morning. Viktor had left early, claiming that something they had for lunch hadn’t agreed with him. But Yuuri wasn’t blind. His husband had been off the whole week. The whole past month, if he was being honest with himself. And he didn’t know how to fix it._

_They had come to Canada so in love and excited to start their own skating clinic. Viktor had been so eager, desperate almost, to get married and start their life together. Yuuri had never felt more loved and needed before. But now he wondered if maybe they had been too quick to start this new chapter in their lives. Their marriage was comfortable, they had bought a nice house together, and their clinic was a great success. But it always seemed like there was something missing from Viktor._

_Yuuri hung up his coat up and looked around, noting the utter silence of the house. He knew Viktor was here, his car was outside, but the older man wasn’t making any sort of noise. Yuuri walked over to the kitchen and then the bedroom. He suddenly missed Makkachin again. Ever since the dog had passed away 3 months back the whole house seemed a lot quieter._

_“Viktor?” he said, not finding his husband in the bedroom either. More silence greeted him._

_“Maybe he’s in the office” Yuuri said to himself as he walked up the stairs to the bedroom that they called an office but was really just a place for them to keep memorabilia of their skating careers. Medals hung up on the wall and old outfits were lovingly placed in the closest awaiting the day that they may find a new person to wear them. Yuuri had always dreamed of adopting a child who would one day skate using his and Viktor’s old outfits, but he hadn’t brought it up to his husband yet._

_Yuuri opened the door to the office and found his husband listening to something on his iPod as he looked at an old album of pictures and newspaper articles that Yuuri had collected from the middle of Viktor’s senior career, back when the man had been in his early 20s._

_“Viktor!” Yuuri said, louder. The man looked up and smiled, taking out his earbuds._

_“Hey, lyubov moya” Viktor said softly and Yuuri melted at the nickname just as he had when the older man had used it for him for the first time a year back. ‘My love’ sounded so much more endearing in Russian. “Are classes done for today?”_

_Yuuri nodded as he moved closer “Yeah, all the students left. What are you looking at?”_

_“It’s nothing…”_

_“This was right after you won your first Olympic medal” Yuuri said, looking at the page that Viktor had been staring at. “And your first Russian Championship! I remember cutting that picture out from a skating magazine. Wow…how young were you back then?”_

_“23” Viktor provided, sounding a little hesitant._

_“Right when your career took off” Yuuri sighed happily. But he sobered up almost immediately, thinking about Viktor’s weird mood lately. Maybe he was looking through these pictures for a reason…_

_“Do you miss that time?” he asked as he looked at Viktor._

_“Not at all. My career was everything to me back then and it wasn’t a happy time in my life. I was under constant pressure until I hated myself and doubted every single thing I did.” Viktor seemed to almost be in a trance now, speaking without even thinking about what he was saying. “And then Yakov would ask me to help train the younger skaters. As though I actually wanted to turn them into something like me…”_

_“The younger skaters?” Yuuri asked with drawn brows “Yurio would have been 10 back then. Was he one of the younger ones that Yakov asked you to take under your wing?”_

_“I don’t really remember” Viktor said quickly, waving his hand. “But the main point is, I wasn’t happy back then”_

_“You don’t really seem to be happy right now” Yuuri muttered. Viktor turned to him with wide eyes._

_“What are you talking about, Yuuri?”_

_“You’re…are you happy here, Viktor? You’ve just seemed distant for a little while and I’m wondering if we made the best choice deciding to come to Canada. Maybe we should have stayed in Saint Petersburg”_

_“We couldn’t get married in Russia” Viktor pointed out._

_“I know that. But now that we’re married, do you want to move back? I’ve never seen you as motivated as when you were at your home rink. I don’t mind living there if that’s what you want, Viktor”_

_“ **No** ” Viktor said, quickly and emphatically. “I want to stay here”_

_Yuri bit his lip. He wanted to scream. Wanted to say ‘you don’t need to hide anything from me; we’re married; you don’t think I haven't noticed how you make excuses to leave whenever we’re watching a competition and one of your old rinkmates is about to skate; you don't think i see the way you refuse to talk about the Russian skaters when our students ask about them?’_

_But he couldn’t say any of that. Maybe it was because of his personality or maybe something in him was terrified to know the truth behind what was going on._

_So instead he just said. “If you miss Russia, we can go back”_

_“We can’t” Viktor said. His voice took on that almost desperate edge, the same kind it had when he had declared ‘let’s go to Canada and get married, right now’, and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel some sort of dread._

_“I can’t go back to Russia. There is nothing good waiting for us there. I told Yakov that I would never go back there ever again and I meant it. We’re building our lives here, Yuuri. So let’s forget about the past and focus on that”_

_Yuuri just plastered on a fake smile. “Okay. Focusing on the future sounds good”_

_Viktor smiled back. He leaned forward to kiss Yuuri’s nose before getting up. “Good. You go take a shower and I’ll make dinner”_

_“You’re going to cook?”_

_“I’ll…order dinner”_

_“I want Thai” Yuuri said as he gathered up the album that Viktor had been looking at and placed it back in the bookshelf that was next to the medal case. If Viktor wanted to focus on their future together, then maybe that was a good thing. They could continue on with their lives and maybe whatever it was that was bothering him would be forgotten in time._

_But he still couldn’t help but wonder…_

_Yuuri looked back down at the carpeted floor where Viktor’s ipod had been pushed to the side during their discussion. He bent down to pick it up with the full intention of putting it on the desk but his curiosity got the better of him._

_Slowly, he clicked on the select button to see what song Viktor had been listening to. The screen flashed with a familiar name._

**_On Love: Agape_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we got a bit of a flashback to Yuuri and Viktor's marriage and what might have been the beginning of the end for them~
> 
> Hopefully this chapter gave everyone a teeny bit more insight to some things about Viktor. Of course, more will be revealed in the chapters to come ^^


End file.
